CHAPTER 1. Should I Confess?

“Oops. My bad, Omega,” Rachel sneered, her laugh a cruel, guttural sound that echoed through the crowded courtyard.

Concrete scraped fiercely against my palms, tearing the delicate skin until hot beads of crimson welled up to the surface. My knees and elbows took the brutal brunt of the impact against the unforgiving schoolyard asphalt. A stinging, fiery pain shot through my nerve endings like a violent electric shock, but I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper, refusing to let a single whimper escape.

Rachel clipping my ankle with a bone-crushing kick was no accident. They loomed over my fallen body, their eyes flashing with a predatory, amber glow. They bathed in that smug, primal satisfaction of dominance, openly mocking my scentless nature, my complete lack of a wolf spirit, and my painfully empty wallet.

In a society governed by claws, fangs, and rigid pack hierarchy, I wasn't just a late bloomer. I was a wolfless Omega. A genetic dead end in a high school full of apex predators. I wasn't overweight or ugly, but the "poor" part was painfully accurate, and to them, my lack of supernatural power was the ultimate deformity.

The heavy, suffocating weight of Rachel’s Beta aura suddenly pressed down on my shoulders, an invisible, crushing command demanding that I bare my neck in submission. I didn't. I never did. As much as my fingers violently twitched with the reckless urge to throw a solid right hook and shatter her perfectly sculpted jaw, I had to remind myself of the facts. 

I am an intellectual. I am human in all but name. Just six more months until graduation, Leah. Just six more months, and you can leave this feral pack behind forever.

Brushing the dirt and gravel off my uniform skirt, I ignored the blood dripping from my palms. I didn't cower, and I certainly didn't bare my throat. I simply locked eyes with Rachel, offering her a look of utter, flat boredom, and walked away. 

Owen Hayes.

Our pack’s reigning Alpha Heir, captain of the combat team, and recently crowned the most lethal junior enforcer of the season. He was the quintessential bad boy Alpha set up in every teen drama ever written.

If it weren't for him, Rachel's elite clique probably never would have even noticed my scentless existence. Ugh, I hate him.

They swarmed him like flies, desperate to catch his attention, the air reeking of their floral pheromones. If the jerk would crack even the slightest smile at them—

Oh, shoot.

He’s looking my way, isn't he? His ice-blue eyes just sliced right through the crowd and locked onto mine, didn't they? I could literally see his nostrils flare slightly, his enhanced senses instantly catching the faint metallic scent of the blood on my hands.

No, no, not today. I quickly spun on my heel, veering left and walking briskly toward the dense tree line at the edge of the campus.

"Leah!" his deep, commanding baritone rang out, sending a visible shiver through the pack members nearby.

Shit.

Before I could even make it ten yards, his supernaturally long legs and werewolf speed closed the distance. He didn't use his Alpha tone on me; he never did. Instead, he casually draped his heavy, muscular arm over my shoulders, leaning his massive weight on me like a spineless giant. I tried to shrug him off, my small frame struggling under his dense, rock-solid muscle.

“You’re heavy,” I muttered.

He chuckled, a low, vibrating sound that rumbled in his broad chest, and slowly let his hand drop. “Where do you always rush off to after school lately? You won’t let me pick you up, either. What is it? Can’t tell your one and only best friend?”

Yeah, Owen Hayes was my childhood friend. We’d grown up together since we were eight, back before he presented as a Alpha heir and before I failed to present at all. And the main reason the female wolves at this school wanted to tear me to shreds was the agonizing fact that this fierce, untouchable Alpha Heir would only ever smile, tease, and act playful around me. He was the only high-ranking wolf in the entire territory who didn't look at me like I was a disease.

“I’ve got things to do. Move,” I said, trying to push past his chest.

But Owen didn't do excuses. He hoisted me up by the waist with a single arm as if I weighed no more than a gym bag. Completely ignoring my furious smacks and protests, he effortlessly dumped me into the passenger seat of his massive truck.

He didn't step back. Instead, he leaned in way too close to pull the seatbelt across my chest himself. He had absolutely zero concept of personal space, and he didn't realize that his casual intimacy, the way his unnatural body heat wrapped around me, was exactly why I was running. 

My treacherous heart was hammering against my ribs, and hiding my feelings was becoming completely impossible, especially knowing his wolf hearing could probably pick up my skyrocketing pulse!

I simply shoved his dangerously handsome face away, offering only flat, evasive mumbles. Even if I wanted to get out of his car… I just couldn't now. The doors were locked, and his commanding presence filled the cabin.

“Shit!” Owen snarled, a growl ripping from his throat.

Tires screeched violently. My body lurched forward with terrifying speed.

Instantly, his thick arm shot out across my chest, an immovable iron bar pinning me safely to the seat. I didn't hit the dashboard…

“You okay?” His voice was frantic, his Alpha instincts on high alert.

…But my face wasn't so lucky. A cold, sticky sensation spread across my entire face. The pink strawberry cream had launched perfectly off the fork, landing squarely on my nose and instantly clogging both nostrils.

Two seconds of dead silence hung in the heavy air.

"Pfft... Hahaha!" His loud, booming laughter exploded, vibrating through the small cabin and shattering the tense atmosphere.

"Don't laugh!" I groaned, my voice sounding incredibly nasal and pathetic through the thick layer of icing.

Ignoring my fierce glare, Owen quickly pulled some tissues from the center console, visibly struggling to suppress his laughter. He leaned in again, his large, warm hand gently gripping my chin while his other hand pinched the tip of my nose to wipe away the mess.

"Good grief, Leah Bisset. You really are driving my wolf crazy," he murmured softly. The amusement faded from his voice, replaced by a thick, heavy sincerity as he told me to breathe out gently so I wouldn't inhale the cream.

No, you're the one driving me crazy!

His face was right in front of mine, barely a hand's breadth away.